Inspiration Is Hard to Come By When Writing About This Raleigh Townhome

Allow me to set the scene. I’m sitting in my office staring at the ceiling awaiting inspiration on what comical musings to come up with regarding this week’s house. As I am cranked back, Hazelberg comes in and starts chewing on his cow hoof. He loves to chew on that hoof but man is he loud and boy does it stink. Hazelberg provides zero inspiration.

Accurate. I digress. 

I resume my position of leaning back and staring at the ceiling, as the dog chews his smelly hoof, awaiting once again for inspiration when the Gusman comes walking by and says, “Hey babe, what are you staring at?” He comes into the room and stares up at the ceiling. “Is there a leak or something?” I let out a big, dramatic, Oscar-worthy sigh and sit up once again.

Again, accurate. I digress again.

I explain to my beloved that there is no leak or bug or anything on the ceiling that has my attention. I am simply looking for inspiration regarding the home featured in this week’s column. The Gusman responds with, “Show me the house, I bet I can come up with something.” At this point, I was simply grateful that he was not chewing on a smelly hoof so I started showing him the pictures. What happened next was an inspiration.

We started arguing about what these folks had done to this house, the type of furniture, what type of antipsychotics they were taking, and so on. My inspiration was to involve you, fine people.

Okay, here we go.

I could not get past the uber-shiny black paint in the entry. So shiny that the artwork is reflected. The Gusman could not get past the fact that they would put uncomfortable museum benches to sit on in the hallway.

“Hon, those aren’t benches. Those are tables.”

“Oh no, no,” was the retort. “Those are uncomfortable museum benches.” So what say you my lovelies, are they benches or tables?

This is when we started arguing about what type of mental condition these folks had and the types of drugs they were being prescribed. The walls alone are a Rorschach Test. I will say, I do like those little footstools with the hot pink circles. They are cute.

This is the only room upon which we agreed because we were both equally confused. My brilliant editor, Shelby Skrhak, clued us in that this is the elevator. She found elevator buttons. Can you?

Okay, one more.

The dispute here was whether the painting of the Waffle House is art. The Gusman seems to think that because it’s painted it’s art. I am saying that if Michelangelo himself painted a picture of a Waffle House it still would not be art. All I can think about as I look at that picture is a short Vine video that someone made years ago of two Waffle House cooks beating the crap out of each other as a customer at the counter keeps asking, “Can I please get a waffle?” Hysterical!

Final question of the column: is a painting of a Waffle House art? I can’t wait to see what inspiration comes to each of you as you ponder your answers.

So my peoples, here is the end of my column but the Gusman disagrees. He thinks there should be more. What do you think my lovelies? I lied. There was one more question.

See more of this North Carolina townhome located in Raleigh.